


Destiel One-Shots

by Gypsymoon77



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, One-Shots, Randomness, Romance, Sappy, cas is awkwardly seductive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsymoon77/pseuds/Gypsymoon77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An on-going series of Destiel one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> So I have the bad habit of writing one-shots that have no real plot and no real point. So rather than posting them individually and struggling to come up with titles and summaries, I'm just going to post them here. The more well-written ones will probably get their own post, but if it's easy, breezy, it will go here.

Dean had thought he was alone in the bunker or he would never have been “caught in the act” so to speak. He had started off quietly enough, mumbling along to the lyrics of the songs playing on the station he was streaming on Sam's laptop while he flipped through endless mounds of lore books. They were playing some good stuff, so as time went by, Dean began to sing louder, drumming his fingers in time to the music. He was enjoying the time alone, no need to pretend to be okay or to be the tough, I've-got-it-all-together guy. The quiet comfort of the bunker relaxed him, and before he knew it he was belting out the lyrics and playing air drums.

“You have a nice voice.”

Dean jumped and turned to stare at Castiel with wide eyes. His friend had seemingly materialized in the bunker, though with his burnt wings that was now impossible. Instead, he had apparently adapted to being very, very sneaky.

“You should sing more often,” the angel continued, stepping further into the bunker and coming to sit next to Dean.

“When the hell did you get here?” snapped Dean, feeling mortified at being caught singing and trying to cover it up with gruff bravado.

“Just a few minutes ago,” Cas replied, oblivious to Dean's ire. He idly ran his fingers of the spines of the books Dean had set aside for research. “Keep singing,” he requested, pulling one from the stack and beginning to thumb through it's pages.

“No,” growled Dean, slamming the book in front of him shut and angrily snatching up the next one he was going to peruse.

Cas shrugged as if it were no big deal and continued flipping pages. Dean winced as Pat Benatar's _We Belong_ came on. He pretended to be studiously dedicated to the volume in front of him. It wasn't until the first chorus that he realized he could hear Castiel. He looked up with surprise to find Cas quietly singing along. While staring straight at him.

Dean swallowed hard as he scrambled for an explanation for why Cas would be singing, if you could count that croaking noise he made with his gravely voice actually singing, to him. Especially a sappy 80's love song. He looked back down at the book in front him, feeling heat creep across his cheeks.

There was a scraping noise as Castiel pulled his chair closer. Dean felt his body tense as the angel leaned over and began to softly sing in his ear. Castiel's breath was warm against his ear and neck and the lyrics were embarrassingly mushy. Dean chewed his bottom lip, his mind racing in a thousand different directions.

The song came to an end and Dean turned and coolly looked at Cas, whose face was mere inches from his.

“Dude, you can't sing,” he whispered, trying to play off the situation with his trademark humor.

Cas tilted his head to the side as if he was considering his statement, then nodded in agreement. “Next time, you sing to me,” he ordered, then slid his chair back to it's original position and taking up his book once more.

Dean stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, and the let out a disbelieving laugh. “Uh, no,” he said, feeling nervous, confused and more than a little disappointed. For a moment, he had thought those lyrics had been a confession, but maybe Cas had just been joking or being silly. Not that he often did either of those things. Dean sighed, and forced his attention back to the book in front of him. When Sam showed up about an hour later, he found Castiel half-way through a volume of Enochian lore and Dean still staring at that same page.

 


	2. Zen

Dean had found his rhythm. His fingers moved steadily as he stared with unfocused eyes, his lips slightly parted. His mind buzzed pleasantly with the motion, and he almost....

“I did not know you could knit.”

Dean almost dropped the needles and the merino wool that was just starting to form the recognizable shape of a scarf. He instinctively shoved the knitting to the side, trying to hide it from view, though it was very clear that Castiel had seen it.

  
The angel stood smiling down at him with a bemused grin on his face. He held a book in his hands, and he made a gesture to the space on the porch swing next to Dean. “May I join you?”

“Yeah,” muttered Dean as he moved over slightly, pulling his knitting back on to his lap. The swing rocked jarringly as Castiel took a seat, their elbows brushing as he opened up his book. Dean waited a moment for the swing to settle or for Castiel to make another comment, but when it was clear that Castiel was absorbed in his book, he took up his knitting and began slowly working through stitches.

A few quiet moments pass with the only sounds breaking the silence are steady clack of knitting needles and the rustling of turning pages. Dean could feel his shoulders begin to relax as he self-consciousness subsided.

“When did you learn?”

Dean kept his eyes focused on the yarn and needles. “When I had the Mark,” he explained. He could practically feel Cas' curiosity, so he continued. “I was desperate for anything to make it...ease off. I overheard these two woman one day talking about how knitting made them feel all zen, so I figured, why not try it?”

“And did it help?”

Dean snorted. “You know the answer to that.”

There was a pause and then Castiel answered softly. “Nothing helped.”

“Nope,” replied Dean bluntly, turning the knitting and starting the next row. He took a deep breath and let it out. “I started making this one for Charlie before she.....”

“Dean.”

Dean turned to Castiel, expecting him to see that pitiful expression on the angel's face and an apology on his lips. He began to tell him not to worry, that he didn't blame her death on Cas. That it had been his own fault, just like anything else that had ever gone wrong for them. All of his bad mistakes had led them down one wrong road after another. But the words died on his lips when he realized how close Castiel had moved to him.

“Cas?” he asked in surprise.

Castiel leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, gentle kiss, as if Cas was trying to use his grace and the contact of their lips to heal Dean's broken psyche. Dean let out a muffled noise of surprise and Cas took the opportunity to slip his tongue past Dean's parted lips. Dean meant to make a noise of protest, but a pleased whimper escaped his throat instead.

Just as quickly as it had started, the kiss was over. Castiel leaned back and picked his book back up, turning his attention back to the page in front of him. “When you finish Charlie's, will you make me a scarf too?” he asked, his eyes fixed on his book.

Dean stared at him in disbelief for a moment, shocked Castiel had kissed him, shocked that he had allowed it. And more than a little perturbed that Castiel was now acting as if nothing had happened. He didn't didn't know if he should yell ' _what the hell were you thinking?_ ' or ' _why the hell did you stop?_ '  Instead, Dean cleared his throat and muttered. “Yeah, sure.”

“Thank you,” replied Castiel quietly.

 


	3. Stars Falling

“It's just shooting stars, Cas.”

Dean turned to his friend. They were sitting side by side on the trunk of the Impala, their faces' upturned towards the countless stars dotting the night sky. The first streak across the sky had caused Cas to tense. The angel discreetly slid closer, pressing against the human's side. Dean raised an eyebrow, slightly amused that a cosmic wavelength of energy seemed so cowed by something as common as a meteor shower. Not that he could really blame Cas for being unnerved. Not since the last meteor shower the guy had encountered had actually been his brethren falling from heaven.

“Should we drive back to the bunker?” Dean asked, trying to sound neutral.

“N-no, I'm fine,” replied Castiel, his mouth set in a thin line as he tried to appear at ease, and like always, failed pretty miserably. He kept his eyes trained on the sky above.

“Really, we can go...,” said Dean, shifting to slide off the trunk. His feet barely touched the ground when Castiel reached out and gripped his arm to stop him.

“No, you wanted to watch this. I'm glad you asked me to come along,” he stated, smiling slightly.

Dean snorted. He had seen the news report on the night's meteor shower earlier and had thought it would be nice to share with Castiel. Not that he would admit that. “Who else would I ask? Sammy? He would think I'm going soft in my old age.”

Dean settled back to his original position, his lips unconsciously curling into a small smile. The night was cool, with the first hints of the approaching autumn – just the smallest chill in the air, enough that he could distinctly feel Cas' body heat through the light jacket he wore. He thought back to other nights like this – those he had spent with Sammy while they were out on the road on a hunt, and those nights long ago early in his friendship with the angel, when Cas had first started showing up just to talk. He turned to the angel and noticed that Castiel was peering at him curiously through the dark.

“What?” asked Dean a little defensively,

“You are getting old,” the angel commented, seemingly surprised by this revelation.

“Gee, thanks, Cas.”

“I am unused to having mortal friends. I hadn't been paying attention to your aging process....”

“Shut up and watch the meteor shower.”

“You have exactly 32 gray hairs....”

“Caaasss,” Dean drew out his name in irritation, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair as if he were feeling for the aforementioned white hairs.

The angel obediently turned his attention back to the sky. The minutes passed and his body relaxed as he grew accustomed to the increasing amount of streaks of light shooting across the sky. It really was quite pretty. He could understand why Dean had wanted to come and watch. But in the back of his mind was a nagging thought.

_Dean was getting old._

Of course, he had lost Dean before. Life as a hunter had almost guaranteed the human a shortened life span. They may have set heaven and earth to rights, or as right as it was ever going to get, but the hunting hadn’t stopped. There was always the possibility that Dean or Sam or both wouldn't make it back from the next hunt, that one day he would come to an empty bunker and wait in vain for them to come home.

Castiel wasn't sure why the idea of them dying bothered him so much. He could technically visit them whenever he wanted. But it wouldn't be the same. There wouldn't be moments like this one, sitting on the back of the Impala watching chunks of space rock burn up in the atmosphere. He turned and smiled at Dean, nudging him slightly with his shoulder.

“What is it?” Dean asked, his eyes flickering away from the sky.

“Thank you. For being my friend. For being my family,” said Cas, his voice deep and sincere.

Dean rolled his eyes and made a show of dismissing the conversation. “Aw, no chick flick moments, dude,” he answered gruffly, but Cas wasn't fooled by his bravado.

The pair went back to silently watching the shooting stars flash across the sky. It could be years before he lost Dean, or mere hours. Castiel supposed that was what made moments like this so sweet. He shyly scooted closer to Dean until their shoulders were pressed together. Dean didn't turn to look at him, but Castiel could see his lips turn up into a smile. Yes, moments like these were sweet indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted last year, but I figured I would incorporate it here.

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend looking up the lyrics to this song if you don't already know it. My fave Pat Benatar song and I think it fits these two pretty darn skippy well.


End file.
